


Hidden In Plain Sight

by kmoaton



Series: Bingo Fills [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Family Secrets, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:53:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmoaton/pseuds/kmoaton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Secrets have a way of destroying everything when they finally break free.<br/>LV/HP</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Voldemort is winning the war. There is no Harry at Hogwarts. Currently Harry is living on an island in France. Lily Potter is still alive. Written for HC Bingo. Prompt used - Invisibility. Will be posted to comm once the fill is complete.

Sunrise at the beach had always been Harry's favorite time to paint. Belle-Ile had so many wonderful places to spend the morning painting and Harry took advantage of it every morning he could. His mother was opening the shop this morning so it would give him time to finish a commission piece ordered from England.

Known in the magical art world as James Evans, Harry had developed a following for his landscape portraits even though he was young and reclusive. Lily Potter had taught him from a young age to keep his identity cloaked especially his scarred forehead. He was seldom in public w/o a glamour and except for a single trip to London at the age of 11 to get his wand, he had never stepped foot on his native soil. Now 21, he was content never returning to land where he lost his father and after his mother told him vague details of a supposed "prophecy", Harry was happy to be away from the ranting of a senile old man, who seemed to want him dead. 

Easily lost in the trance of painting, Harry didn't realize what he had done until the work was completed. Stepping back to admire his work, Harry was shocked to see he had painted the figure of a man. He was dark haired and pale, dressed in black robes but his face was not visible as he was staring at the ocean. Looking down the shore, Harry saw he was very much alone. Frowning at the painting, he weighed his options. The painting needed to dry and packaged for shipping tomorrow. He didn't have time to redo the painting. With a frustrated sigh, he gathered his supplies. While some of his pieces found their way into muggle hands, fortunately the purchaser was a wizard so he could only hope the addition of the robed figure wouldn't be a deal breaker. 

The remainder of the day passed quickly and quietly. Lily frowned at the painting but said nothing. The tiny art shop did brisk tourist business and there was no time to for lengthy conversation. People always wanted a portrait of their favorite settings on the island and Harry’s were some of the island’s most popular. By closing time, every owl was gone on deliveries and both Potters were worn out. Supper was a simple meal of bangers and mash and Lily surprised Harry with a treacle tart she whipped up. 

Delightfully full, Harry retired to his bedroom and quickly fell into a dream.

_He was back at the beach. The man he had painted earlier was also there. Harry approached him but the man didn't turn around to face him._

_"Excuse me, sir."_

_For a moment, Harry wondered if the man could even hear him. He was ready to reach out and touch the man to get his attention when a smooth, cultured voice responded._

_"Hello, Harry."_

_Stepping back, Harry was stunned. "How do you know who I am? Who are you?"_

_The wizard turned around. Harry was taken back by the appearance of the man. He was handsome with dark hair and dark eyes that glittered from his pale skin. Harry could feel himself drawn to the man but he was wary. He could feel the darkness that pulsed from the stranger and he knew it could easily swallow him whole._

_"My Harry. For so long, I've looked for you. Your mother hid you well but now it's time for you to take your place at my side."_

_Harry continued to move back away from the dark stranger. "Who are you? What are you talking about?"_

_Chuckling, the man turned his attention back to the ocean. "it's not quite time for you to know everything yet. You mother had much she needs to share. When that happens, I'll return."_

_Before Harry could respond, he could feel himself being pulled away._

Harry sat up in his darkened bedroom, his heart beating rapidly. Picking up his wand, he cast a tempus.

_2:17_

Knowing sleep would be impossible as long as that dream was lingering in his head, Harry went to his studio. Painting always relaxed him and hopefully, he could unwind enough to get a few more hours of sleep. As he began to set up a clean canvas, he thought about what the mystery stranger said. 

_What did mother not tell me?_

He knew about their life in England, before his father was killed and they had to flee for their lives. Harry knew that she cut all ties with everyone she had known in England to keep them safe.

_Safe from what?_

As he began to paint, he thought back at what he had been told. _"The wizard who killed father also attacked me. Mother said I was struck in the forehead but she was able to apparate away before he could kill me."_

As he continued to pick about his memories, Harry's painting became more and more frantic. His mind was a million miles away, disturbed by the idea that someone knew secrets about him that he didn't even know. Now panting at the effort he was exerting, Harry was more and more upset. 

_"What happened all of those years ago? What is being hidden from me?"_

Exhausted, Harry dropped his arm and for the first time focused on his painting. Shocked, he faintly heard the sound of his brush and palate hit the floor.

_Bloody hell no!_

Harry had painted a street scene, devoid of people as usual, save one. Instead of the idyllic street café bathe in beautiful sunlight, it was horrifically dark. The sky was blood red, the buildings and cafes were dark. Sitting at a table was the mystery man from the earlier painting and his dream. He was still dressed the same but his eyes were different. They were glittering red and even though he painted them, the sight of them chilled Harry to the bone. The expression on the man's face was smug. He looked as if he had won a prize. 

Backing out of the studio, Harry quickly closed the door and cast a locking charm that could only be opened by him. He didn't want his mother to stumble in and see the painting. Heading back to his bedroom, Harry couldn't shake the chill from the painting. For the first time ever, he feared his own creations and his sanity.

For the next few days, Harry refused to enter his studio. Claiming an artist’s block, he spent time helping around the shop. Easing down to the apothecary's shop, he bought a couple of sleep potions. The dream hadn't returned but the worry was taking a toll on his rest.

Returning to the shop, he was surprised to find the closed sign out and his mother sitting on the bench outside.

“Is something wrong?”

Lily smiled but Harry noticed it didn't reach her eyes. “Nothing that a conversation can't fix.”

Standing, she reached out and took Harry’s hand. “Let's walk to the shore.”

Taking his Mother's hand, Harry allowed himself to be led to a spot he knew his mother loved. It was a shady nook on a hill and it gave a perfect view of the quaint town. Once they settled in, Lily began to speak.

“When we came here, I was mourning your father and furious at the betrayal by those I thought we supposed to protect us. My only thought was you. I did some things to erase you from the British world of magic. I wanted to protect you. You were not the savior, you were just a boy and I wasn't going to let some foolish old man use you as a pawn.” 

Lily paused and stared out over the town. “I wanted to hide you from your destiny. I knew one day it would come looking for you but I thought if I could just keep you invisible to the world then you would be safe but I see I was wrong.”

Harry was confused. “What are you talking about?”

“How long have you been having the dreams?”

Taking by surprise, Harry could only stammer. “Only a few nights. How did you know?” 

Lily sighed. “I recognize the man in the painting. The only way you could know is if you had started seeing him in your dreams.”

Harry was shocked. “Mother! Who is he?” 

“It's the wizard who killed your father and tried to take you from me. It's Lord Voldemort.”

ooOOoo  
Returning home, Harry immediately went to his studio. Quickly undoing the spells, he went in and slammed the door, his mind reeling from his mother's revelation. The man who killed his father, the Dark Lord of Britain, was the same man he had now painted twice and talked to once in a dream.

Staring at the dark painting he'd left in the studio, Harry shuddered. The idea that darkness could possibly be inside of him was frightening. He had always been told by Lily that his path was always his own. She explains the Dark and Light but Harry refused to buy into either knowing instinctively no one would be all of either. Harry understood that good people could do bad things and vice versa. Living away from the war in England gave him the luxury of not having a 'side'. He was free to make his own decisions.

Signing, Harry moved the painting to the side and placed a clean canvas on the easel. A quick spell cleaned the palate and added fresh paint. This time he wouldn't fight the muse. He would just let the paint flow.

ooOOoo

His arm ached from the hours of constant painting and Harry contemplated a pain draught as he stepped back to look at his latest creation. Harry had to admit it was one of the most striking pictures he had done. Dark cliffs lined a stormy shore. He could almost feel the spray from the crashing waves as the beat against the rocky walls. The sky was filled with dark storm clouds, lightning bolts drawing jagged white rips through them. Standing at the apex of the cliffs was the Dark Lord. His black robes billowed as he raised his wand to the sky, seeming to embrace the lightening. The glow of his red eyes was the only facial feature that could be clearly seen. 

The power that exuded from the picture was intense. A former teacher of Harry's had once shared with him how people could actually pour their magic into their art. People who were equally powerful would be able the feel the strength of the artist’s bond with their work. Lesser magical people would have unexplained attraction to the strong magic in the work. 

Harry had known he was magically powerful. Lily had him tested when he was younger and his magical core was off the charts. As she explained, it was another reason to keep him away from England. If Dumbledore the extent of Harry's powers, Lily was certain he'd stop at nothing to use Harry for his own means. 

Staring at the picture, Harry's mind raced back to the dream conversation with Voldemort.

_'He referred to me as his Harry.'_

Why was Voldemort in his home that night? Was he truly looking for Harry and killed his father when he tried to stop Voldemort? For the first time, Harry wished he had paid attention when his mother told him about that prophesies. He knew if he went to her now with questions, she wouldn’t be forth coming with the truth. She would see it as protecting him but Harry knew something big was coming and he refused to go into this ignorant. 

With a jaw-popping yawn, Harry knew this would have to wait until morning. He had a trip to plan and he was going to be up at first light to get started. Securing his studio, he practically sleep walked to his room and was sleep before he realized he had hit the pillow.

ooOOoo

_“My Harry. Are you finally ready for the knowledge?”_

_Harry sat upright in shock before realizing he was no longer in his room. Instead, he was in a dark paneled study, sitting in a large leather chair beside a huge roaring fire. In a matching chair across from him sat the man Harry now knew as Voldemort. Harry wasted no time with pleasantries, his need to know the truth overpowering any other desire Harry may have had in mind._

_“Why were you there that night? Why did you kill my father?”_

_Voldemort crossed his long fingers. The red eyes Harry had been seeing in his paintings were a subtle brown this time. As they met Harry’s eyes, once again Harry could feel the strength of the magic between them._

_“Your father’s death was an unfortunate consequence but he would not give me what I wanted.”_

_Leaning forward, Harry exploded. “You wanted to take his child! You wanted to take ME! You just expected to walk in and they would hand me over?”_

_A flash of red shot through Voldemort’s eyes and unconsciously, Harry leaned back into the high back of the chair. Voldemort’s voice was hard and Harry could feel the coldness and anger as it lashed out._

_“You belonged to me and they knew it! Dumbledore did his best to stop it with his lies. His lies lead to your father’s death. Why do you think your mother hid you away from him? She knew what Dumbledore was capable of and what he had cost her. Secrets, Harry. Secrets have a way of destroying everything when they finally break free.”_

_Struggling to absorb what he was hearing, Harry asked. “How do I know you aren’t lying now?”_

_A ghost of a smile danced across Voldemort’s face. “I am a patient man, Harry. I am will to wait for you to go to Gringott’s and find all the information you need from your family vault. When I come for you, you will go willingly.”_

_“You seem so sure of my actions.” Harry snorted._

_Standing, Voldemort walked around Harry’s chair, his hand lightly caressing the scar on his forehead. A strange warmth flooded through Harry as the Dark Lord’s finger traced the mark. His voice almost sounded like a caress._

_“Oh Harry, of this I am certain. You are mine. You always have been.”_

_Harry could begin to feel himself fade. “I need to know. How did you find me?”_

_Voldemort began to disappear from Harry’s view. The last thing he heard before Voldemort was completely gone rocked his world._

_“Your magic soaked paintings, my dear Harry. I always knew the magical signature of my soul mate.”_

ooOOoo

Harry woke up to the dim light of the early morning, his dream visit with Voldemort still flowing through his head. At least he had a definite destination in mind. Staying in his room, Harry waited until he heard his mother leave for the shop before leaving out. Making sure he had his vault key, Harry grabbed some Floo powder. Clearly calling out Gringott’s, he stepped into the flames and whooshed away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it has been forever but I really had to consider how I wanted this story to go and I think I finally figured it out! Enjoy and apologies for the long wait!

To his great relief, Harry's entrance into Gringott's wasn't noticed. It was early in the morning and the lobby was empty of customers. It also helped that no one knew who Harry was on sight. He had not been in England since the age of 11 and that was a brief trip, with only Ollivander being to one to see him personally. Quickly he moved across the lobby floor and stepped up to the counter. 

"I wish to meet privately with an account manager. It's regarding the Potter estate."

The goblin eyeballed Harry for a moment but when the young wizard didn't back down, he grunted and left through a door behind him. Moments later, another goblin stepped through the doorway. 

"Would you follow me please?"

Harry was led down a stone hallway. Torches lit up the hallway, casting eerie shadows to dance on the walls. He began to wonder how far would they walk but they finally stopped in front of gigantic wooden double doors. The goblin pushed them open with ease and led Harry to one of the two seats in front of a massive desk. 

"I am Gornuk, the Potter family manager. First of all, we need to verify your identity." The goblin explained as he pushed a sheet of parchment and a small silver knife across the desk. "I need you to place three drops of blood on the end of this parchment."

Frowning, Harry complied. Knowing what could be done with blood in the wrong hands, Harry made sure to clean the knife thoroughly and healed his finger. It took a moment but soon, the following paragraph appeared on the parchment. 

_" This verifies that I am Harry James Potter, heir to the Potter family. Currently, Lily Evans Potter, widow of James Potter, serves as head until she formally gives the head to Harry through written proclamation or she dies and the headship passes on by inheritance."_

Looking over the words, it hit Harry hard to realize his mother had been alone for nearly 20 years. He knew the story of how his father was killed, but for the first time, he really wondered how much more to the story was there that hadn't been shared with him.

Gornuk sealed the parchment and after putting it away, he returned his attention to the verified Potter heir.

"What do you need today, Mr. Potter?"

"I was told there are some documents that I need to review. It has something to do with my life before we left England." Harry responded. 

The goblin stared for a moment. "The documents are currently in your heir vault. If you wish, you can accompany me or remain here." 

Harry was on his feet quickly. "I go with you. I would like to see what else is in the vault."

ooOOoo 

It was a hair-raising ride to the depths of Gringotts. More than once, Harry wondered would riding that infernal rail car would be the reason for his death. When they finally came to a stop, Harry was almost ready to kiss the ground. It took a few moments for his legs to stop wobbling, and then he approached the doors of the vault. 

"You need to place your hand here," Gornuk said, pointing to an indentation in the door. "It will prick your hand to verify you are a Potter. The vault hasn't been opened since the passing of your father." 

Storing that information away for later, Harry placed his hand in the indention and tried not to wince as he felt a swift, sharp cut to the palm of his hand. A minute passed and he felt warmth flow through his palm, healing the cut. Seconds later, he could hear the loud clanging of turning gears, indicating the vault was opening. Stepping back, Harry could only watch in awe as the door swung open and revealed orderly stacks of trunks, books, and coins. Gornuk led the way. 

"The papers you seek are in this trunk. It would be easier for us to shrink it and you take it with you. There are quite of few things you need to read through." 

Harry followed the advice and shrank the indicated trunk. There were several other books he shrank and added to the sack Gornuk passed him. Ignoring the galleons, Harry looked through piles of books and parchments. He was curious about anything that could answer the questions that buzzed around his brain. To his surprise, Harry found a journal written by his father. Instinctively, he knew that would have to be hidden from his mother, at least until he finished reading it. 

After returning to the office, Harry asked one question that had been puzzling him. "Why didn't I receive the papers when I came of age?"

Gornuk sighed. "We were told to not give you the papers until you specifically asked for them." 

Harry could only stare in shock. He knew without a doubt that it was his mother's instructions. 

"Thank you, Gornuk for your time. May your gold always grow and your enemies fall at your feet." 

ooOOoo

When Harry returned home, he was grateful that his mother was still at her shop. He was angry because the information had been kept from him his whole life. It would do no good to confront her until he read them. Thus, Harry spent the remainder of the day locked in his room, sorting to through the trunk. Everything had been stored in chronological order, making easy for Harry to piece everything together. The sun was setting when he read the last piece of parchment; his heart aching and rage filling him. 

His father died because they chose to listen to the rantings of Dumbledore instead of using their own common sense and resources available to them. His father was too trusting of the old man and his mother followed blindly behind him waiting until it was too late to do what should have been done in the first place. 

Disappear to save his family and himself. 

ooOOoo 

Lily spent the day working in a blind fog. She wasn't certain but she had her suspicions about where Harry disappeared to so early in the morning. Over the course of the day, she berated herself for not telling Harry the whole story sooner. Yes, Harry knew that Voldemort had killed his father and came after them but she never shared the entire story. Hindsight was indeed 20-20. One way Lily knew Harry was like her would be the anger she sure he would feel once he found out how much information was kept from him. She recalled her own when she found out how much James had fallen in with Dumbledore and put all their lives in danger. The bitterness she had tried to bury for so long resurfaced. This was not going to be a pleasant evening. 

Lily had just finished placing the last of the dinner plates on the table when she heard Harry leave his room. He had been locked in there since returning from his errand and she wanted to see him but dreaded what she knew was probably going to be an ugly confrontation. She had been dreading this moment since Harry had gotten old enough to understand what was really going on but the past was too painful to dive back into. Lily did everything in her power to keep from losing her son. Now she was faced with the real possibility that secrets would drive him away. 

The tension in the room was almost visible. Harry was trying to figure out how to bring up what he discovered without sounding bitter. He was trying to understand why his mother held on to her secrets for so long, especially when they affected his entire life. The stiff silence wasn't broken until Lily returned to the table with dessert and tea.

"I came to wake you this morning to help me out at the shop. Where did you go?"

Harry flushed. "I went to Gringott's in London." 

With a heavy sigh, Lily sat down. "I see." 

"Why didn't you tell me the entire story?" Harry asked, anger creeping into his voice. 

"You were told what you needed to know at the time. You were just a baby when everything happened. As you got older, it got harder." Lily responded. Harry didn't say anything. Instead, he got up and walked to his room, returning with a stack of parchment. 

Tossing the stack on the table, Harry stared into eyes like his. "What about now, mother? Our account manager said he had to wait until I asked for these papers. Where you ever going to tell me the real reason why father died?" 

"Sit, Harry." Lily implored. She wasn't completely sure what was in the papers that had been stored in the trunk. She grabbed everything and ran away from England as fast as she could. In the beginning, it hurt too much to look at the papers but later, Lily no longer had the desire to know. 

"The night your father died, we were in hiding. Only four people knew where we were. Voldemort was looking for you and we wanted to keep you safe. I don't know who betrayed us. Your father was killed defending us and trying to give me a chance to get away with you."

Harry frowned. "But why were you hiding? The papers father left didn’t say why only the places you'd been and who was aware. He was trying to figure out who was betraying us." 

"It was destroying him to know one of his closest friends had sold their soul to the devil," Lily replied, her voice sounding brittle. 

"But what did Dumbledore have to do with this? In his notes, father kept saying how he was taking his advice."

Lily's head fell forward. "There was the prophecy..." she began but Harry interrupted. 

"You mean that all of this was because of a prophecy?" He yelled.

Lily held her hand up. "You will let me finish, Harry James Potter!” her tone allowing no argument. Harry glared but respectfully remained quiet. 

"There was a prophecy that said a child would be born at the end of July who would have the ability to defeat the Dark Lord. The child would be born to parents who had already won against the Dark Lord three times. We didn't know if it meant you or the Longbottoms’ son, Neville" 

They sat in silence for a moment. Lily lost in her memories of the past, Harry processing what he was now learning. 

"How do you know it was directed at me?" Harry questioned. 

"Your father was an auror, a bloody good one. Until I got pregnant, he and I worked together sometimes along with Sirius and the Longbottoms. We encountered the Dark Lord on three different occasions but we were always able to drive him off. Once I stopped working, your father and Sirius partnered up. He and your godfather were taking down Death Eaters and the Dark Lord was angry. No one knows who shared the prophecy with him when he came after us, we knew he had targeted you."

Lily took a sip of her tea, suddenly wishing for something stronger. Pushing her hair out of her face, she continued. 

"Do you think we knew we were going to be betrayed? Moving to Godric’s Hollow was the second location we stayed. Death Eaters attacked our first hideout but fortunately, we were away at dinner."

Harry took a bite of his tart but it only tasted like sawdust in his mouth. "Why did you stay in England? You could have gone anywhere."

"I begged your father to leave Godric's Hollow but he still trusted Dumbledore and believed in his friends, at least until we found out that someone had shared the prophecy and our first location with the Dark Lord." Lily's voice broke as tears began to roll down her face. "One of them betrayed us. I finally convinced him that we needed to leave and not tell anyone. The night before we planned to leave was the night the Dark Lord finally found us."


End file.
